


Necessity

by bitacrytic



Series: abc sterek [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Human AU, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Neighbors AU, amputee!Stiles, fandomcares, independent!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitacrytic/pseuds/bitacrytic
Summary: Stiles finds himself getting used to Derek being there for him when he returns from dreadful dates with people who see him as nothing more than his accident. But then one day, Derek doesn’t show.





	Necessity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maladicta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maladicta/gifts).



> Written for fandom cares at the bid of the very helpful MissMaladicta who beta-ed and helped plot the fic

Stiles saw it the moment it occurred to the woman sitting across from him. As he got up from his seat and moved to pull hers out, she looked down at his legs when he limped, favoring his left side in order to be a gentleman. Her lips tightened imperceptibly, but Stiles, used to such subtle looks by now, noticed. She gave a tight smile and took the seat, letting her eyes return to his face as they made empty small talk.

He knew to expect something like this. His condition had kept him out of the dating pool for the last sixteen months. He was under no illusions as to how questionable his viability as a partner would be if he couldn’t even walk straight. But he was determined to put himself out there. Given the chance, people rarely persisted in their dislike of him, their annoyance and irritation usually muting to fond exasperation after prolonged exposure. He just needed to get his date to the table first and everything else would fall into place when they realized he was a delight to be acquainted with.

_____

Two hours later and a cab ride home found Stiles struggling with the keys to his ground floor apartment, cursing and slamming his hand on the door when the keys slipped from his grasp and onto the floor. With a defeated sigh, Stiles let his head fall forward. He ached. His anger at the situation was causing his muscles to tense, which made his bad leg -or what was left of it- ache. If only he could get inside his apartment... If only he could just make it to his sofa...

Taking a deep breath Stiles braced his hands on his door and stared down at the treacherous keys, wondering how he was going to make the trip all the way to the floor without someone coming down the stairs to find him stuck or the door right behind him opening at the wrong time. Which was really anytime that Stiles found himself in the hall nowadays.

Well. The night wasn’t getting any younger and neither was he. He really didn’t need to be out here longer than he had to be.

Just as he grabbed the handle of his door and began to lower himself, careful to keep his bad leg straight, he heard the door from the apartment behind him open and he froze, tensing.

“Need help?” a hesitant voice asked as Stiles slowly straightened.

“Thanks.” Stiles breathed, hating his life even more with each passing moment. It could have been anyone. ANYONE. Anyone but his landlord who was too attractive to be real.

Derek walked out of his apartment in sweatpants, a t-shirt and nothing on his feet, bent, picked up the keys and handed them to Stiles.

“Thanks.” He said again, no knowing what else to say.

“Anytime.” Derek replied quietly as he stood there like an awkward shadow while Stiles restarted his efforts to get his apartment door open.

When he finally managed, Derek was still standing there, staring at Stiles, so Stiles looked back at him.

“Do you-?” he began

“Yeah, thank you.” Derek said, walking into the apartment and holding the door for him.

Stiles twitched at the idea of having Derek in his home, especially since his question was going to be “Do you want something?” and not “Do you want to come in?”

Because he certainly didn’t need Derek Hale inside his apartment.

Not tonight

Not ever again.

_____

Stiles ignored Derek on his way inside, picking up his crutch from behind the door as he pulled off his jacket. By the time he got to the couch he was grimacing silently, he collapsed into the welcoming softness and allowed himself two seconds to breathe before he opened his eyes and set about rolling up his trousers.

“Had another date?” Derek asked, sitting on the arm of the couch closest to where Stiles was.

“Yeah.” Stiles said, tugging at the buckle of his prosthetic leg and unstrapping it before unceremoniously allowing it to fall to the floor.

“That bad, huh?”

“You think?” Stiles asked bitterly, waving at his missing leg.

“Their loss.” Derek said, as Stiles paused.

“Do you need something, Derek?” Stiles asked, looking up at him as Derek shook his head.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” The older man mumbled, eyes sliding from Stiles as he looked at the floor.

“I’m fine.”

Derek raised his head and looked like he still had things to say but just as he opened his mouth, Stiles beat him to it.

“I’m really tired, Derek. Can I please just go to sleep?”

“Right.” Derek said, cheeks pinking in embarrassment as he got to his feet. “You need to put your back down and your leg up. I get it. Right. I’ll see you around.”

Stiles nodded, watching him leave silently while pretending there wasn’t a huge lump in his throat and an ache in his heart.

_____

The next weekend, Stiles returned from a date with a nice cheerful guy who had been nothing but courteous. They’d chatted amicably through two coffees and a small plate of pastries. The date had been going well right up until the point where he’d walked Stiles to his cab and then told him honestly that he really couldn’t date a cripple. It was nothing against Stiles as a person though. It was just his personal preference. Right. As if there was a pool of people out there who only wanted to date cripples as a preference.

When he got home, Derek was sitting out in front of the building with a pot of what Stiles assumed was tea and two cups. As he approached, Derek sat up and waved him over.

“Join me.”

Regardless of his good judgment, Stiles sat, partly from exhaustion but also because he wasn’t ready to be alone with his thoughts. In thirteen months of rehab and three months spent bed-ridden, Stiles had never had anyone speak so frankly about his condition. Having his latest date tell him that he wasn’t relationship potential because of something he had no ability to change made Stiles want to throw things. It made him want to yell and scream and fight and yeah- he just really wasn’t in the mood to risk being alone with his thoughts right now.

So he sat.

“How was this one?” Derek asked after clearing his throat, fingers clutching the porcelain of his teacup with more force than required.

“He doesn’t think cripples are his type.” Stiles said in a clipped tone as Derek scoffed.

“What’s not to like?” he asked.

“Right?” Stiles fired back. “I’m fun company, right?” Derek nodded. “And I’m awesome.”

Stiles covered his face with his hand and took a breath. Even as he was trying to make light of the situation, none of it felt light. His whole life just felt heavy and dragging and full of baggage, and the irony that he was physically lighter as a result of that was not lost on him.

Feeling the familiar burn of tears threatening to fall, Stiles rubbed his eyes, pressing into his sockets until he was sure he was back in control. He started when he heard a cup slide slowly across the table between himself and Derek. Stiles dropped his hand in time to see Derek’s hands pull back leaving a steaming cup of tea in front of him.

“Thanks.” He said, making no move to claim it.

“Do you want me to punch the guy?” Derek offered

Stiles gave a snort despite himself, remembering how Derek’s dry humor used to tickle him in the past. He shook his head.

“Maybe I should turn in.” As he made to stand, he went to place his weight on the table top, stumbling back into his seat when he realized how flimsy it was. It would not hold him up.

Another reason he should have walked back to his apartment and collapsed in his own home so that he could spare himself this indignity.

“Let me.” Derek said, suddenly at his side as he slung Stiles’ arm over his shoulder and hefted him to his feet. Stiles could feel his face burn.

“Thank you.” He muttered.

“It’s no problem.” Derek said, readjusting his hold and leading him into the building.

_____

Stiles half expected Derek to be waiting for him in the middle of the road when he returned the following Friday. However, when he got out of the cab, he found Derek sitting in the same spot, only this time the flimsy table and chair set had been replaced by a wooden table with heavily weighted legs, surrounded by equally sturdy chairs.

“Seriously?” He asked, waving at the table as he came closer.

“I got bored.”

“So you made an entire outdoor setting?”

“It’s just nails and wood.” Derek mumbled, needlessly moving the cups and jug in front of him.

“Right.” Stiles said, slowly lowering himself into one of the chair as Derek poured him a cup of juice. “Don’t you have anything stronger in your house?”

“I’m on a cleanse.” He said.

Derek was always on a cleanse of some kind. At least he had been when Stiles knew him better. He’d hopped from trend to trend and Stiles never found it fair that they always seemed to work for him. The few times Stiles had tried to follow, he’d almost ended up in the hospital because his body couldn’t take it. He needed to eat regular, balanced meals. That was the way his body worked. He couldn’t go three months without meat... or three months eating only meat… or three months without dairy or carbs. Stiles was not Derek.

So he stopped trying to be.

“What did this one do?” Derek asked and Stiles didn’t need clarification to know that Derek was talking about his date.

“I really don’t want to talk about her.” Stiles said, draining his cup of juice like a petulant child.

“Why do you do it?” Derek asked quietly.

“Because it’s Friday and I need a place to go?”

Derek looked over at him and Stiles shrugged.

“I don’t know.” He dropped the cup on the table. “I guess I just feel like I’m trying to prove something to myself.”

“Prove what?”

“That someone out there won’t care that I’m not complete anymore.”

_____

The next date, Stiles called it quits early.

She wasn’t the problem. In fact, she seemed cheerful enough that he almost forgot that she had flinched the moment she tried to run her foot up his shin and had found a prosthetic in its place.

But sometime during the date, his leg had begun to hurt so badly that he’d had to leave. By the time they’d finished the mains he ached from his waist all the way down to the ankle that he no longer had, but could very much swear was present and causing him hell. Luckily, the restaurant had been able to wrangle him a crutch that he was only too grateful for as he made his way out to the cab and left.

The moment he emerged from the cab with the crutch, Derek was on his feet, marching towards Stiles with worry etched on his features.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” Stiles waved him off, balancing on the crutch as he slowly made his way inside the building.

“It’s not nothing. Where are your keys?”

Stiles pulled them from his pocket and handed them to Derek as the other man jogged ahead. By the time he got to the door, Derek was holding it open and Stiles marched in and headed straight for his beloved couch where he sprawled ungainly before sighing in relief.

The pain was still there and he would most certainly be seeing a doctor in the morning, but he felt a little bit better knowing that he was home and safe and able to cry in pain without people seeing. Except…

Derek was still there.

He opened his eyes and Derek stared at him.

“Should I get you something to drink? Where are your painkillers?”

Stiles pointed at the side-cupboard by the sofa where his tray of drugs and oils sat. Derek walked to it, reaching for the prescription bottle before Stiles cut in.

“The jar with the blue label.”

Derek picked it up and sat beside Stiles.

“This doesn’t look very prescribed.”

“Trust me,” Stiles said, leaning forward to unstrap his leg. “It is.” He bit out, struggling with undoing the straps

“Here, let me.”

Derek handed the ointment to Stiles as he knelt down, helping him unstrap and remove the prosthetic to reveal the naked, pink stump beneath and for a moment… for one short second, Stiles wondered what it would feel like to have someone tend to him like this. To have someone help. Not out of pity, in a moment of weakness, but out of concern, maybe even love… Stiles cut that longing off ruthlessly. He didn’t need help. He didn’t need anyone. He could survive on his own.

But as Stiles sat there, watching Derek take the utmost care to remove his prosthetic without irritating his stump further, he couldn’t help aching for the chance to be cared for in that way.

Derek set the leg aside and looked at him.

“What do I do?”

“I usually just rub it on the stump.” Stiles said, opening the jar and dipping his finger in to take out a generous dollop. But Derek held his hand open and Stiles rubbed it into his hand as Derek set about, repositioning himself in front of the stump to examine the chaffing and rub the ointment.

Leaning back into the couch, Stiles allowed him. This was good. This didn’t have to be awful. Derek was helping him. Derek was being nice to him. There was nothing in it for Derek and yet here Derek was.

Stiles sat up at that realization as Derek looked up at him sharply.

“Did I hurt you?”

“I…” Stiles hesitated. “No, I’m fine.”

“You’d tell me if I hurt you, right?”

“What are you doing here, Derek?” he asked quietly.

Derek leaned back, looking at Stiles quizzically.

“Your leg-”

“What are you _really_ doing here?” Stiles asked

“I’m…” Derek hesitated. “I’m trying to be there for you.”

“Why?”

Derek had the gall to look surprised as he got up from where he was kneeling, hands clenched at his side in obvious frustration.

“Why do you think?”

“There’s nothing for you here anymore, Derek. We both know that.”

“Says who?”

“Says everything you ever wanted from me.”

“Everything I ever…” Derek looked even more confused. “All I ever wanted from you was you.”

Stiles frowned, raising his brows.

“You never wanted me. I was convenient.” He shook his head.

“You were-are everything-” Derek began

“I was a student who couldn’t pay the rent so you took your fee.”

“That’s not even- WHAT?” Derek asked, voice slightly raised. “That’s not what happened between us.”

“Then explain why you never asked for your rent when I couldn’t afford it.”

“Because you were a student who couldn’t pay.” Derek shouted back.

“And all the bendy sex was what? Huh? Derek?” Stiles shot back, shakily pulling his crutch close and getting to his feet. “Because I sure as hell never saw you fucking any of your other tenants.”

“Because I had you. Because I thought we were together.”

“We both know that’s not true. That car crashed into me and I lost my leg and we were over.”

“We were over because you wouldn’t let me touch you. You wouldn’t even let me visit you in the hospital.”

“There was nothing left for you there.”

“Nothing left for me…” Derek trailed off, scratching his head in agony. “If sex was payment for me, what the hell were we still doing it after you got a job and started paying?”

Stiles stilled, unable to reply as he stared into Derek’s defeated, green eyes.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? He and Derek had continued fucking because it was convenient and satisfying and Stiles let him do anything he wanted. He wasn’t going to pretend like he hadn’t liked it too. He had. He wasn’t going to lie, wasn’t going to deny that he’d woken every day, worried that Derek would put a stop their ‘arrangement’ now that he was getting paid.

Even though he knew what he was to Derek, he didn’t want it to stop because somewhere along the way, Stiles had started to like it all… he had started to like Derek. Somehow, necessity had morphed into desire and desire into something more, and Stiles? Stiles hadn’t wanted to fight it.

Before he could say anything more, Derek turned away from him and walked out of the apartment, leaving Stiles angry and frustrated and so, very, very confused.

_____

When Stiles returned from his next date with a loud-mouthed wannabe musician who thought Stiles’ story would make good writing material for his next song, he was a little disappointed to find that Derek was nowhere to be seen.

_____

He’d had his fill.

He was so done with all of it. If no one wanted him, then he was going to want no one. So, Friday night of the next week saw him cleaning up around the house rather than out on another disastrous date. He swept and mopped the sitting room and vacuumed his bedroom and the study. He loaded the trashcan with dirt from all over the apartment and then rolled it out, one hand braced on his crutch as he made his way slowly out of the apartment.

When he passed Derek’s door, a pang of sadness hit him, but he ignored it.

He’d gone almost a year and a half without speaking to Derek. That he’d been seeing him once a week for the past month was not enough to make Stiles feel like he had lost anything. Although, he thought, lining his bin up by the rest, he could admit to himself that he missed those few moments when Derek had been there for him. Had helped him inside and shared his time, and his tea.

Not that long ago, Stiles would have felt compelled to make a sly, innuendo-laden comment, crack a joke, do something, anything, to keep Derek’s attention. Recently, that hadn’t been the case. If anything, he was sure he had made it clear that he could do without Derek’s attention.

As Stiles made his way back inside, he was surprised to see Derek standing by his door, hands in his pockets and his forehead resting against the door. When Stiles’ crutch hit the ground, Derek lifted his head, suddenly alert.

“I was just about to knock.” He said, watching Stiles approach.

“Did you want something?” Stiles asked.

Derek took a deep breath, shifted his feet and met his eyes.

“I… I was wrong. Earlier. The situation was murky and now that I’ve heard it from your perspective, I feel horrible about it.”

“Derek-” He began as Derek cut him off.

“I should have been clearer with what I wanted from you. What we _were_. I should have stated my intentions. I shouldn’t have assumed and I definitely shouldn’t have taken advantage of you, even if I didn’t mean to, even if to me...” he swallowed. “Even if to me it didn’t feel like taking advantage.”

“You didn’t-”

“So I want to be very clear now.” He stated, taking a step closer to Stiles as Stiles mouth clamped shut and his eyes widened at how close they were. “I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry about what happened. I never understood why you shut me out like that or why I was suddenly never allowed to even be in the same room with you.”

“You really don’t have to-” Stiles started to say, trying to step away, trying to push down the emotions that were suddenly choking him, trying to _breath_. But Derek only followed him, determined.

“I want to take you on a date. A real date. If you’ll let me.” He said, stunning Stiles completely. “I want a fresh start and I want it with you. I’ve always wanted it with you.” He said. “If you’ll have me again.”

“You’re serious.” Stiles said wonderingly

“Yes.” Derek said, nodding like Stiles couldn’t hear him. Like he wanted nothing more than for Stiles to look him in the eye and give him another chance.

“I don’t want to go out anymore.” Stiles said, finally breaking the spell and moving around Derek so that he could get to his door. By the time he turned back Derek was still facing away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’d rather stay home tonight. Would you like to come in for a drink?” he asked.

Derek turned around, his expression of surprise clear to see, like it used to be whenever Stiles showed up to his apartment with some new fact he had learned that he knew Derek would like. It was always a miracle how loud Derek’s quiet shock could be.

Stiles opened the door and held it, waiting for Derek’s brain to restart.

When it finally did, he nodded at Stiles and followed him in.

 

 


End file.
